“He’s at the clubhouse doing biker stuff. I told him I’m going to have a girls’ night, and I’m sure he wants to spend some time with his brothers,” I say.

   Knock, knock.

   “Who’s that?” she asks, washing her hands in the sink.

   “I have no idea,” I reply, picking up my phone and logging into my security app to see who’s there. “It’s my uncle.”

   After rushing to the door, I let him in and hug him as he passes me. “Hey. Is everything okay? You’re not usually one to drop in unannounced.”

   I feel like I have to ask everyone this more than I should. Any time someone comes around now, I automatically assume that something has gone wrong, and with good reason.

   “I got your voice mail about Jean dropping into your work and I thought I’d come and talk to you about it,” he says, and says hello to Nadia as he spots her.

   “I was telling Bronte I think they need to place a security guard in front of there, because I don’t like how she just walked in,” Nadia says to him, frowning.

   “I agree,” he replies.

   “Yeah, you’re right. Crow mentioned the same thing. What do you think about what she had to say?” I ask as we all sit down on my couch. “Do you think she’s genuine?”

   “I don’t know what to do about Jean. I think you should decide, and let me know.”

   Me?

   Shit.

   I asked to be involved, and I guess this is him handing me the reins.

   “What if what she says is the truth? She’s clearly not the best person out there, but I don’t know if she deserves to...die.”

   There, I said it.

   These people aren’t just going away on fucking vacation, they are being killed in retaliation for what they’ve done. And there’s no point pretending otherwise.

   “Did you check up on what she said? We should check the records and see if the domestic abuse is true,” I suggest.

   “Already did, and it is,” Nadia states, shrugging. “And she was married to him, and she does have a college-age daughter named Anne.”

   “So everything is true, except we just don’t know if she’s lying about her involvement with Dad’s death. Can we find out if she really is moving her daughter to a different college? Maybe Jean will move there with her and we won’t have to worry about her anymore,” I say, thinking that would be a best-case scenario.

   It’s clear I’m leaning toward having a little faith and trusting her. If everything else she said was true, there’s a chance all of it was. Jasper is a hundred-percent guilty, but with Jean, I don’t know if she is, so of course I’m not going to want anything to happen to her.

   “So you want us to let her be?” Neville nods, leaning back and studying me. “We can find out about the college thing, if need be. But if that’s what you want to do, then okay.” He leans forward and kisses my head. “And please go and see your dad’s lawyer. He won’t stop calling me, trying to get you to go in there.”

   “I will,” I promise.

   Eventually.

   “I did see him at the station, but I didn’t have time to discuss the will with him.”

   “I better get going, I didn’t mean to interrupt your girls’ night,” he murmurs, standing up and fixing his navy suit. “Let me know if you need anything, or if there’s any kind of trouble.”

   Nadia comes over with a container filled with baked goods. “For you.”

   “Thank you, Nadia,” he replies with a smile, then turns to me. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we will find out. I’m going after Jasper, so shit will hit the fan really soon. Just stay safe, Bronte.”

   “I will.”

   He leaves and I make sure the apartment is all locked up.

   “Your life has so much more drama than mine does,” Nadia announces, shaking her head and going back into the kitchen. “I don’t know how you do it. Here, eat a cookie, you deserve one.”

   I eat a few cookies, and then I text Crow and tell him my uncle dropped in, and that everything is fine.

   At least I hope it is.

* * *

   Abbie comes to visit at work, answering phones for me in between our chats. “So what else has been going on with you? Dad said he dropped in to see you the other night,” she says, tapping a pen on her lips.

   “He did. We discussed the current plan.” I don’t know how much she knows, but I’m assuming whatever the Knights know, they let her in on.

   “I heard,” she admits, lowering her voice. “Temper is staying on alert.”

   “I told him to not worry about Jean. I don’t think she’ll give us any more trouble.”

   And so far, she hasn’t. No one has seen or heard from her, although she must have realized we bugged her car and house, because the bugs were destroyed. So we can no longer listen to her personal conversations.

   “I don’t know how you all live in a state of permanent stress,” I say, resting my forehead against the cold wooden table. “Like, what is going to happen next? Is Jean going to come out of nowhere and prove me wrong? Is Jasper still alive or being held captive and tortured somewhere?”

   Cam walks by and I instantly shut up, not wanting her to get involved in all of this. “James is coming now for those parts. Can you send him into the garage to see me when he does?”

   “Sure,” I reply, smiling. “Anything else?”

   “Yeah, you look good in red,” she adds, grinning and walking off.

   “She’s not wrong,” Crow says as he approaches. He’s wearing another bowling shirt, yellow and blue this time, and it’s particularly terrible.

   “How many of those shirts do you own?” I ask, wishing the one he’s wearing now would die in a fire.

   “A lot,” he replies, smirking. “Remind me to show you the next time you come to the clubhouse.”

   “He has a whole wardrobe full of them,” Abbie agrees, eying it in distaste. “I don’t know how you get women in them, really.”

   “Ask Bronte,” he says, leaning down and kissing me. “The only woman I want.”

   I touch his stubbled cheeks with my fingers. “I better be the only woman that you want.”

   “Get a room, you two,” Abbie adds, pulling us back away from each other and inserting herself between us. A few customers walk in and we all go into professional mode.